Then and After 2: Robert
by Harmony Valenka Smith
Summary: The second in my Then and After Series, this is what Carrie's story looks like with Robert. Rated M for mature language and scenes.
1. Prologue

**Here's what Carrie's story would have looked like if she chose Robert. Once again, I do not own DDADDS. All rights to all products go to their respective owners. If you have not read the first story covering Damien, no worries! The stories are not chronological, just different perspectives of the same instance, but I encourage you to check that story out nonetheless. I hope you enjoy!**

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Prologue

I was never good at handling death. The death of my first dog when I was eight was hard, then came the death of my Aunt Christy, who was my favorite aunt. She always respected me and loved me for who I was, even if no one else agreed with my choices or stood by me, she would. I… I wish she had been there with me when Daniel died.

Daniel was my first love. We got married and were together for a short while. Then, one night, he got in a car accident. Since then… I couldn't bring myself out of my grief. It has been two years since his death and I have taken to using multiple avoidance methods as opposed to dealing with my grief. I'm sure I qualified for the good drugs they give those with depression, but… some strange part of me didn't want to admit defeat. Yes, I felt depressed and very little had made me happy without Daniel, but… I always had whiskey.

I felt bad for my adopted son, Andrew. Daniel and I had adopted him at an age when he still remembered his own parents. We had become his parents and had helped him deal with his emotions. We helped him develop himself as a person, no matter what route he decided to take in life. He tried to help me, tried to make me feel better as I had him. He was so strong… I couldn't bring myself to be half as strong. I felt broken, as if the organ beating in my chest were made of glass.

Andrew suggested we move. He picked out a house across town and I agreed. Andrew tried to hide the fact that he had packed Daniel's things for me. I knew he did it out of mercy toward me. His office needed the most cleaning since I hadn't touched it since…

I was glad that Andrew was able to find us a house in a new neighborhood. Maybe I could change here. It also helped that Andrew could stay in the same school. I knew how close he was to graduating and how important this year was for him. He was so bright. He was the only one who could make me smile anymore. If he weren't here for me, I would have shattered long ago.

The cul-de-sac we moved into had a charm to it. The houses were all differently decorated and seemed to speak the echoes of the people who lived here. Andrew shook me out of my thoughts. I had forgotten that he had his license and that he had driven us here… I really was relying on him too much.

"How 'bout some coffee, Mom? There's a coffee shop just down the block from here. It'll help give us energy to move the boxes and stuff inside," said Andrew.

"K," I said quietly.

I didn't really pay much attention to anything. It felt like I was in a black and white world where rain could start at any moment. _Maybe I should have taken a prescription for anti-depressants…_ I thought drearily. Nothing made me happy, most days… and it was only getting worse.

We arrived at the little coffee shop and Andrew ordered for the both of us. I looked around, taking in my surroundings. My eyes locked on a mysterious man across the room. He was the textbook definition of that guy no dads wanted near their girls. He was dark, brooding, and had a look in his eyes that was captivating and full of danger. Plus, the leather jacket looked really cool on him. I don't know what it was about him. A spark? I saw some color again. All I did was look at him.

Andrew handed me my coffee and reminded me of the time. Realizing we had to go, I sighed. I wanted to talk to the guy, learn more about him.

Andrew and I left the coffee shop and walked to a local park. We met a guy and his daughter playing Frisbee with their dog. We didn't stay long.

We got back to the house and started unpacking. When I reached the boxes with Daniel's belongings in them, I… I could barely bring myself to look at them. I knew if I touched his things I'd go back, just like I always did when I remembered him. The rain clouds were coming back. My heart was heavy as I thought of all the things I could never do, never see again. _He's not here anymore._

I might have gone into a full slump had it not been for a knock at the door. A neighbor was inviting Andrew and I to a barbecue. I made conversation, but I felt really out of it. I realized, when our neighbor left, just how deep of a rut I was in. I had never given a full, genuine smile since before Daniel died. I went into my room and cried. I was sinking fast.

I emerged from my room sometime later and went for a walk on my own. I met up with my old college roomie, Craig. I think he noticed I was still off. He was nice about it though. I didn't say much to him. There was no point in lying and telling him everything was okay. He knew me too well.

I kept walking, noticing it had reached nightfall. I received a text from Andrew saying that he would be hanging with his friends. I sighed. I kicked a rock along until some different lights drew my attention back up.

The lights came from a little dive bar called Jim and Kim's. I went in and was assaulted with the smells of a low-end bar. I had gotten used to most of these smells. I sat down and called the bartender over. "Whiskey on the rocks, please," I requested. I also gave him a piece of paper with my address on it in case I passed out and needed to be taken home. It wouldn't be the first time.

I was sipping the whiskey slowly, wanting it to last, wanting the fullness of everything to come over me. I started watching the game on the low res tv. I recognized it as Daniel's favorite game. A part of me wanted to stop watching, but our favorite team was doing well, despite the very good efforts of the other team.

I had noticed, at some point, that the man from the coffee shop was there. _He's so cool._ He happened to be cheering for the opposing team. It came down to the wire, but my team won. Neither of us had been subtle in who we were supporting, but I was happy to notice him raise his glass, graceful after his team's loss. I raise my glass in response and offer a small smile. He motions to the bartender, who refills both our drinks with whiskey.

"The name's Robert," he introduced, sidling closer to me.

"Thanks, I'm Carrie," I said.

He asked if I was new to the neighborhood and I nodded. "Well, you've come to the right place. As slimy as it is, Jim and Kim's is the best in town," he said. "What kinda drinks do you prefer?"

"I'm down for anything," I said, giving a confidant smile.

"You like shots?"

"I love shots."

"Thank God." He gets us each another shot of whiskey. We take them nearly simultaneously. I was starting to feel really good.

I felt the need then to get him to like me. Don't know why. "You look cool," I say.

"Thanks..." Was that a blush from drinking or…?

I don't know if it was just me or my personality and the whiskey combined, but that sounded really cool to me. _This guy is seriously cool._ He calls another round over for us.

"So, what brings you here?" he asked.

"Running from my problems. The usual."

"I like your style." He gets up. "Be right back." _Wow._ I was in this stupor I hadn't felt in a while.

"Never seen Robert this talkative. He must like you," commented the bartender, Neil.

If I wasn't already red-faced from drinking, I certainly was red-faced now. _That was some good liquor._ I didn't feel bad now, but I would most definitely be hungover tomorrow.

Robert came back and grabbed his jacket. "I'm walking home. You heading my way?" he asked.

"I live in the cul-de-sac down the way," I said.

"Same here. Come on." He waves me forward, making me walk out with him. I subconsciously follow him all the way to his house. I find myself pinned between him and the door by his arms. "So, are we doing this or what?" He wasn't being forceful, yet…

I blush. "N-no thank you. I really ought to get home."

"That's cool." He pulls away, but the scent of whiskey remains. I hadn't realized how whet my desire was until then. I pulled away and walked the rest of the way to my house before I did anything rash.

"See ya around!" I call out, realizing only after I spoke that it was my drunk voice.

"Sure," he called out. We both went into our respective houses. When I got in and went to my room, I shut my door behind me and slumped against it. _Wow._ It was my mind's word for the evening. I hadn't felt this way in a while. It was weird.

The next day was pretty easygoing. I went to Andrew's school and had a talk with his teacher. I found out maybe Andrew wasn't dealing with home life as well as I thought he was… or maybe he still hurt from Daniel's death too?

After that, Andrew and I went to the mall. We went to the goth store and saw a guy in full goth clothing. He seemed really into the Victorian era clothing.

Saturday arrived: the day of the barbecue. All of the guys I had met this week were there: Mat, the barista; Brian, the burly redhead; Joseph, the apparently married blonde; Robert, Mr. Whiskey; Craig, my old college roomie; Andrew's teacher, Mr. Vega; and Damien, the eccentric goth. I noticed Robert had some whiskey in hand, so I went up to him. Andrew went off to be social with the other kids.

"Hey," he greeted with a tip of his glass.

"Hey," I said. A small blush came to my face. "Wanna spot me a shot?" He grinned and poured me a glass. "Thanks."

Brian came up to us and we started a conversation on camping. Brian seemed to be trying hard to impress someone, though I wasn't sure who. Then, Robert made the comment: "I haven't been camping in years. Not since the last time."

"What happened last time?" I asked.

He took a sip of his whiskey and went into his story: "Well, ol' Johnnyboy and me were out in the backcountry. Johnnyboy's a strong kid, met 'im in my army days. Comes from Kansas. They build 'em tougher out there. Anyway, things go south pretty quick: Johnnyboy breaks his ankle when the rope bridge snaps.

"You could see the bone popping out through the skin. Johnnyboy's screaming now. Crying for his mama. We're two days out from the next living soul and here I am with my dear friend bleeding out in front of me.

"I'm able to dress the wound, but now I gotta fireman carry a 6 foot, 180 lb. man over some of the toughest terrain I've ever been in.

"I won't lie to you, there were moments during those two days when I thought about leaving ol' Johnnyboy. But you build a bond with your brother in arms. And that bond never breaks. I got that boy back to civilization. But I lost some of me out there.

"I guess that's camping for ya," Robert concludes his story with another sip of whiskey.

Brian and I stare in disbelief. I take a sip of my whiskey. _Shit, man._

Robert added: "I'm just kidding. My friend John and I went inner tubing down a river and he lost a flip flop. Miss that kid."

I breathe a sigh of relief and Brian laughs nervously. _Man, Robert's INTENSE. _The more I was around him, the more I wanted to hear.

"Or am I kidding?" Robert asks. His expression is dark and I'm really not sure if he's kidding or not. "I'm kidding." I breathe another sigh.

"Well, this was a nice talk," said Brian. He then made an excuse to head away from us.

"Well, now what?" I asked.

"I don't know. I don't usually go to these things," said Robert.

"We should probably try to be social."

"Nah." He grinned and I grinned back. We talked a little bit, but not much. We kinda hung back from the rest of the party.

Near the end of the party, Joseph came up to me and brought up the dating social platform Siingle. He mentioned all of the neighborhood was on it. He waved off my question as to why _he_ was on there since he was married by saying, "It's just a fun little social platform where you can keep in touch with everyone."

"I'll think about it. Thanks," I said.

I didn't think about it much when I got home, but I thought about it more before I went to bed that evening. It was a free site and it really did function more like a social network than a q on q "dating site". I signed up and made a profile, not really thinking much of it.

My profile looked like this:

**Name: **Carrie Adams

**Summary: **Hey, guys. Hit me up if you wanna do something fun. I'm up for anything.

**On a Friday night, I am most likely to: **Mix and try new drinks

**If you had one thing to take with you on a desert island, what would it be: **An axe

**What are your turn-ons: **Getting to the edge and hanging there for as long as possible

**What did you want to be when you grew up: **Writer

**What's your favorite movie genre: **Supernatural and/or Action/Thriller

**What's your ideal date: **Just being together alone. No one else.

**What do you never leave home without: **Wallet, keys, ibuprofen

**I spend a lot of time thinking about: **Story ideas

_It's not like this is gonna really mean anything. It's just for hanging out. Right? _I shook my head. _Best not think on this too much._

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**A little different from Damien's route. Stay tuned, there's lotsa good stuff in store. See you same day next week ;) Please keep reading and reviewing, thanks :)**


	2. Chapter 1: Never Drunk Enough

Chapter 1: Never Drunk Enough

I hadn't thought much of Siingle after I set up my profile. Weeks passed before I went on there again. When I did, I happened to see Robert on there. I look a look at his profile.

It read:

**Name:** Robert Small

**Summary: **when the internet gains sentience and decides to destroy us all you know it'll use this information against us, right?

**On a Friday Night you are most likely to:** make a deal in an alleyway. Have it go badly. Who's the cop? Was it giacomo? I trusted giacomo

**If you had one thing to take with you onto a desert island, what would it be: **gun

**What are your turn-ons:** don't talk to me

**What did you want to be when you grew up:** grifter

**What's your favorite movie genre: **Italian neo-realism

**What's your ideal date:** grave robbing

**What do you never leave home without:** at least four knives

**I spend a lot of time thinking about:** you ever really look into a rabid animals eyes

After reading it, I blinked in disbelief. _I don't know whether to be scared or turned on. _Whichever was the case, I decided to message him.

"_Hey, Robert, good seeing you again at the cookout. Wanna grab a drink?_" After sending, I sit there for a few seconds, waiting for a response. Siingle showed he was connected right now, so he should see my message, right? A few seconds passed and it showed that he read it! (Of course, he could have very well marked it as 'read' without actually reading it.) I sigh. _He'll get to it eventually._

I spend the day rather uneventfully. I watched TV, had lunch, went to work, came home and had dinner. It was late at night and I was just about to sit after doing the dishes. My phone buzzed and I remembered I had gotten the Siingle app on my phone.

Robert messaged me back!

"_you up?_

_"wyd"_

I reply: "_Just chillin_"

A moment passes before he replies: "_wanna grab a drink_"

I leave a note for Andrew and pin it on his doorknob. I then tap out a reply: "_Just tell me where and I'm there_."

"_Jim and Kim's. Get over here._"

"_On my way._"

I decide to walk to the little bar. It was a nice night for walking. Getting there, it felt different from the first time I walked in; it felt better. When I walked in and the smell wafted into my nostrils, however, I remembered where I was and the possible consequences associated with it. When I caught a glimpse of Robert, my hesitation evaporated.

Robert waved at me to come over to his booth. I started walking over, but cringed when I noticed he wasn't alone. Mary, Joseph's wife, was also with him. _Fuck, I hate being the third wheel._ From the way they greeted me though, it didn't seem that they felt it was the case.

"Come here, so we can get this party started. What do you wanna drink?" asked Robert.

"Whiskey, straight up," I replied.

Robert waves over the bartender and all three of us get whiskey. We all knock our drinks back easily. The whiskey burns in my throat and I can already feel my limbs relaxing. Just as I think we're gonna get settled in, Robert shucks his jacket on and says, "Let's get marching."

"What?" I asked.

"The night's young; we're bar hopping."

_Neat._ We all walk out of the bar. Since I still don't know the area very well, I follow Robert. "So, where we headin'?" I asked.

"Irish I Were Drinking. It's an Irish pub," replied Robert.

"Lead the way," I said.

Upon walking into the pub, it reminded me a little of Jim and Kim's, except for the Irish memorabilia on the walls. Irish music also played over the speakers. "Next round; what're you havin'?" asked Robert.

"Whiskey hasn't failed me yet," I replied with a wink.

"Let's do it!"

We find a green booth and down our shots. Mary sits next to Robert and I can't help but feel something sick go down my spine. _Am I feeling jealous right now? Why?_

"Why don't you get us the next round, Carrie?" asked Mary.

"Yeah, sure," I reply. I grab the next round of drinks from the bartender and, as I'm walking back, notice the two are talking and Robert is _laughing._ This is the first time I've seen legitimate positive emotion from this guy. It's shocking, to say the least. A part of me fumes to know that Mary caused it.

I sit down and we sip our shots. Mary goes into a story about a bake sale and some pot brownies. Robert and Mary are both laughing and I find myself laughing too.

"Hey, Carrie, do you want some weed?" asked Mary.

"What, are you with the feds? I worked hard for what I have and no two-bit snitch is gonna nark on me," I said. "So, you take what you're pushing somewhere else. I'm not about to take the bait on your hook."

"What?" asked Mary.

"You shoot for the fence, you gotta hit the pole." _Fuck, how drunk am I?_

Despite my moment of self-awareness, Robert starts giggling. _How drunk is he is probably the better question._

"Okay, Carrie, you need to dial it back a bit," said Mary.

"I think she's just not used to your humor," said Robert to Mary.

"Fine, fine," replied Mary.

We spent some time watching people and making jokes. It seemed like Mary was here to stay. I had hoped to spend time with just Robert though. I cleared my throat and said to her, "Could you get us the next round?"

"You trying to get rid of me?" asked Mary.

"I, uh…"

"Because if you are, you can just tell me to scram." I floundered for a good response before she said, "It's no problem. You want some time with Robert. The wingman breaks formation to pursue their prey."

"Go with God," said Robert.

"See you later," I replied.

"Deuces, nerds," she replied. She then proceeds to go flirt with a younger guy.

Robert shrugs. "She grows on you," he said.

"Does she though? I feel like she delights in making strangers suffer," I said.

"Well, she does."

"And aren't her and Joseph married?" I asked, nodding to her over at the bar with the helpless looking prey she had acquired.

"She's harmless."

"I dunno. The guy she's hanging onto looks harmed, like he's seen war." Robert laughs at that.

"Hey, still got a little wild in you?"

"You know it," I replied with a wink.

He orders us some shots and we down them one by one. Why? 'Cause we're the coolest people in there. I thought about making conversation, but then remembered what his profile said. _He's probably not much of a talker._

On one of my shots, Robert comes out with, "So, you ever kill a man?" I do a literal spit take into my booth and gag a little.

"What?!" I asked.

"You know, watch the life drain from someone's eyes. It's not just their life, you know. It's their hopes and dreams, memories and experience. Gone."

"Uh… no…?"

"Great, me neither."

I knock back another shot and so does he. "I'm just messing with you," he said. I laugh nervously. "Or am I?" I make a worried sound and sip more whiskey.

A few shots in and I realize, "Wow, this whiskey's hitting me hard."

"You betcha," Robert said with a wink. He throws his jacket over one of his shoulders and says loudly, "LET'S ROLL!" He takes a moment before saying, "Sorry. Whiskey. Inside voices. Let's roll."

"What about Mary?" I asked, drawing out the what.

"Mary'll be just fine." We look over and she's singing "Happy Birthday" to a poor sap whose birthday it is not.

We walk outside and I am having the hardest time walking straight or walking without wanting to fall on my face. I try my best to hide my drunkenness though since I wanted to hang with Robert still. "Where to?" I asked.

"You'll see," he replied. We walk until we reach a run-down strip mall with various small shops that all look on the edge of bankruptcy. Among these shops is a liquor store. "Wait here. I'll be right back."

When he returns, I notice that he has two wine bottles. "Cheers," he says while handing me one. We sit on the curb and drink. I was not expecting to go from hard liquor to wine.

I take a sniff and a small sip. "White zinfandel?" I asked, surprised at his choice.

I must have been giving him a look in addition to the query, because he got a little defensive. "It's delicious, fruity, and refreshing. Don't judge me."

"Fair enough," I replied.

We sip on wine for a little bit before Robert suggests: "Let's throw rocks at shit." Before I have a chance to reply or remotely react, he picks up a small rock and hurls it at a stop sign. "That felt good." He presses a stone into my hand and I can't help but think how warm his hand is, even though we're both drunk and probably both burning furnaces. "Now, you try."

"Uh…" I say, noncommittally.

"Come on, with feeling," he coaxes.

"Uh… I'M SORRY!" I shout, hurling the rock. It goes over the stop sign and into the window of a parked car, leaving a small crack. _Shit._

"Shit. Run!" He grabs my wrist and we run into an alleyway, a distance away from the car. I still have the wine in the other hand, I realize. We both pant from the adrenaline and fear of getting in trouble. "Maybe we strike rock throwing from the to-do list…"

"Agreed." _Did it, done it, woo boy._

It's then my stomach rumbles.

"Let's get pizza," Robert said after hearing that.

"Cool," I replied. "What'd you have in mind?"

"I know just the place." He leads me through more alleyways until we emerge by a small pizza joint: "Pete's Piece a' Pizza". "Ta-da," said Robert. The smell of the fresh-baked pizza had me near drooling.

Robert went to the counter to order. "Can I get two slices of Hawaiian pizza? Oh, wait, Carrie, you're cool with pineapple on your pizza, right?" he asked.

"Of course," I replied. Warm pineapple was delicious, whether it was on pizza or a kabob. When we were given our slices, we walked into the alleyway again to eat. I took a bite and it was so good, I found myself having to suck in my own drool. I had the slice gone in far less bites than it would have normally taken me. "I love pineapple on pizza."

"You said it," replied Robert. He looked at me with a smirk on his face. I blushed and disposed of my empty plate in a nearby garbage bin. Robert soon followed suit.

"Thank you. I feel a lot better now," I said shyly.

"You and me both," he replied. As we walked through the alley way, we came upon a door that was slightly ajar. We heard noise and I wondered what it was. "Got anymore of that wild in ya?" Robert looked at me expectantly.

"Absolutely." We quietly slid inside. It's mostly dark, with only some flickering lights. As we walked further, Robert hushed me. "What?" my volume did not match his. He hushed me louder and I giggled. We came to the end of the short hallway and found ourselves in a movie theater with a movie playing on the screen. "Did we seriously just sneak into a movie theater?"

Robert hushed me again. "No talking during the movie!" he added.

The movie theater turned out to be mostly empty. The only other people there were a couple of teens who looked at us oddly. He leads me near the center seats: the perfect spot to watch a movie in the theater. Too close, you're craning your neck to look at the screen. Too far and, well, you're not there for the movie anymore, are you?

The movie seems to be a rom-com. This guy is running through New York to get to a gal to tell her he loves her. "Kiss already!" said Robert.

"There's nobody to kiss yet, dude. Do you want him to kiss the taxi driver?" I asked, holding back my laughter.

Robert thought for a moment. "Hell, yeah," he replied.

The kids, apparently, got tired of us talking and tried to hush us. Of course, the kid that elected to do this I recognized. "Hey, look, it's Ernest! Hi, Ernest!" I called out while waving. He turned back around, embarrassed. I turned back to Robert. "Has he kissed anyone yet?" I asked.

It turned out he had kissed someone. He confessed his love for her in a corny romantic movie setting and they both spewed corny, predictable romantic movie dialogue. There's some context I'm missing, I know, but even if I had watched the movie from the beginning, I'm sure it would have set up this very ending.

"Boo! Love is dead!" said Robert. I burst out laughing, whether from the absurdity of the statement or how closely it matched my thoughts on the movie.

"Shut up! It's beautiful!" said Ernest.

"No, you shut up," I said. We all got quiet as the credits started. I got cozy in my seat. This was nice. Usually, when going to the movie, I would follow the lead of my friend/husband before getting up. Maybe there was an easter egg in the credits and we had to wait to see it. Sometimes, when Daniel was still alive, we would watch the credits to count how many people had our names.

Robert, on the other hand, took a different approach to watching the credits. While I was counting the number of times "Carrie" showed up in the credits, Robert was thanking every cast and crew member. I never thought about doing so before. I guess movie makers do work hard to entertain, even if the movie's plot is predictable or cliché. After the MPAA logo and such pass by, we leave the movie theater.

As we walk out and down the alleyway, sharing the last bottle of wine, we get stopped. "Hey, assholes!" Then, without warning, a rock flies toward us and hits me on the knee. I cry out and drop to the ground. It hurt so much, I nearly started crying. That's when Ernest and his friends show up, blocking our exit.

"Oh, what do you guys want?" asked Robert, his tone dismissive.

"Why'd you throw a rock at me? That really hurt," I said.

Ernest didn't look like he cared as he tossed another rock up and down in his hand. "You ruined my theater-going experience. Now, you have to pay," he said. He chucked another rock toward me, but I dived out of the way in time to avoid getting hit.

Meanwhile, Robert scoffed, "We ruined it for you? That movie was pretty crappy in the first place."

"Hey! You take that back! That was a beautiful love story with really genuine acting," said Ernest.

"You call _that_ good acting? What classicist mainstream slop have you been served your entire life? Haven't you ever seen any of Michael Powell's work? _A Matter of Life and Death_, 1946? That's easily the toughest five minutes of love you'll ever witness."

_Whoa_, I thought.

"Listen, man-" Ernest started.

"No, you listen," Robert cut him off. "That popcorn-ass drivel the mass media is shoving down your throat will only make you dumber and sadder. You of all people should strive for a higher standard in the art you consume. Your name is Ernest Hemingway, for cryin' out loud."

"Oh, no! Now you've done it!" said one of Ernest's friends.

Ernest rushes toward Robert. I stand between the two, but Ernest just kicks me in the knee _that he threw the rock at earlier._ This time, tears do come to my eyes. "Fuck, my knee," I said, falling down again.

Robert steps around me and looms over Ernest. I can feel anger radiating from Robert. I'm scared of what will happen, but I'm also scared to try to stand again. My knee really hurts. I curse under my breath to try to make the pain less.

"All right, buddy. Talk like a punk, get hit like a punk," said Robert. He takes a boxer's stance. "Queensbury rules. Three-minute rounds with one-minute rests in-between. No low blows, fish-hooks, j-grabs, or high blows."

"What?" asked Ernest, looking genuinely confused and bit afraid.

"And don't even think about pulling an illegal turnstile. That's an automatic deduction of three points."

"I-"

"You'll have to designate a second if you're unable to fulfill your role as main duelist. One of your friends over there looks like he has enough youthful vivacity to handle it."

"Hey, man," said the kid Robert indicated. "I don't want to get dragged into this. That movie sucked."

"It's too late," said Robert. "You two are blood bound. If he dies, you die. Sorry, I don't make the rules. Talk to Queensbury."

"We're just… gonna go," said Ernest. He and his friends walked away, watching Robert warily.

Robert called out to them, "The Queensbury association will hear about this!" After a thought, he added, "And consume better content!"

After they were out of sight and earshot, Robert turned to me and crouched down to my level. My knee was still throbbing, but I was more concerned about what just happened. What _could_ have happened? "Were you about to actually fight that kid?" I asked carefully.

"Are you kidding me? I would never hit a child. That would be despicable," he replied. He gave a short laugh, "You throw the rules at 'em though, they always bolt. Nobody wants a Queensbury-sanctioned throwdown… but, full disclosure, I made half of that up."

"Wow."

"See? You don't even have to know the rules. You just make 'em up. C'mon, let's get outta here." He stands up and offers me a hand. I start to stand, but cry out and collapse. He eases me back to a sitting position. He gently touches my knee and I whimper in pain. "You mind if I get a better look?" I start rolling up my pant leg. I ease it over my knee and notice it is red and does _not _look right. "Shit, your kneecap's dislocated. I can set it now, but it'll hurt."

"How do you know how to do that stuff?"

He doesn't answer, but instead shifts to: "I'm going to call an ambulance. They can set a proper splint and get you painkillers. I'm sorry."

"For what?" The question barely leaves me before I feel a sharp pain in my leg. While I had been looking at him and listening, he had gotten a grip on my knee and set it. I was full-on crying at this point. He hushed me and held me as he called an ambulance.

While we waited, he said, "I'm so sorry. I get really into the art of filmmaking when I drink."

"It's okay. It's cool how much you like movies. I'm sure you could show me a lot."

"You ever see any Sam Fuller?"

"I haven't."

"Fuller is cash."

We go quiet for a moment and I realize how much he's done for me tonight. "Thanks for defending my honor," I said quietly.

He scoffs, then laughs. "It's a little strange when you say it that way, but, sure, why not?"

We heard the sirens come close and I instinctively grabbed onto Robert. "Could you stay with me for a little longer?" I asked.

"Sure, no problem."

"Knee injury aside, I had fun tonight."

"Me too."

Robert stayed with me until I got set up with a splint and such. They only wanted me to stay overnight, then I could go home. Andrew was really worried, and we got into a small argument over how irresponsible I had been. Then, we laughed at how ridiculous it was that the roles were reversed. I didn't see Robert after Andrew came in, but I really wanted to see him again. Maybe this time, there would be no injuries and a little less trouble. I had to admit, it was a lot of fun hanging with Robert. I decided that I would message him that I was okay. Then, after a few weeks' time, I would message him and see if he wanted to hang out again. Yeah. I had fun. What could go wrong?

* * *

**That's all for now. Please keep reading and reviewing, thanks :)**


	3. Chapter 2: Whittle Worries Away

Chapter 2: Whittle Worries Away

It had been a few weeks since the last time Robert and I hung out. The brace was off and I was allowed most of my regular mobility back (per doctor's orders). _Well, I've nearly completely recovered from the last adventure. I might as well message Robert and see if he wants to hang out again._ I had been updating him on Siingle as to how my knee was doing, but he stopped reading the messages. I haven't even seen him come out of his house, really.

I decide to message him one more time: "_Hey, my knee's all healed now. I'm ready for another wild night if you are ;)"_ After that, I walked away from the computer since I knew he wouldn't be responding any time soon. I spent the rest of the day with Andrew. We made dinner together and a cheesecake for dessert. We chilled out for a while and watched TV until we were both ready for bed.

It's a little after midnight when I'm finally in my PJ's and curling up in bed. I check Siingle one more time to see if Robert sent a reply. Nothing. _I hope he's okay and not trying to avoid me. Not that I'd care, really. I mean, the last time we hung out, I was a bummer and ruined his night. Yeah, he probably doesn't want to hang out with me again after that._ I put my phone on my nightstand and flip over.

I am halfway between sleep and wake when my phone starts buzzing like crazy. I grab it and notice the Siingle app, still open, has a few messages for me. From Robert!

"_hey_

_"Carrie_

_"hey_

_"hey Carrie_

_"Hey I'm outside_

_"come outside_

_"don't make me honk_

_"I will honk_

_"get out here_"

I fumble toward my window, phone still in hand and notice Robert is leaning up against his pickup truck in my driveway. He's looking at his phone and looks ready to lay his hand on the horn. _Fuck, he looks so hot right now,_ I thought. I put on a coat and head outside.

"Hey," greeted Robert.

"Hi," I replied.

"Wanna hang?"

"Okay."

"Cool. You plan on going out like that?"

I look down and I realize I am not wearing any bottoms. I had gone to bed wearing some baby-doll lingerie and a lace thong, both red with black trim. I realized he could see this because I hadn't zipped up my jacket. I blushed red at that realization.

"I mean, I don't mind," Robert added. My blush got impossibly stronger.

"I-I'll get some pants. Um. I'll be right back." I don't think I had ever gotten changed so quickly in my life. I threw on a t-shirt, bra, and jeans. After a quick look in the mirror, I decided a quick scrub with a washcloth would wipe the sleep from my eyes. I throw my jacket back on and grab my keys. I lock the house and find Robert is already waiting in the truck. I hop in the passenger seat and I notice a blush on his face.

It may have been a trick of the light, because it is mostly gone when he asks, "Ready?"

"Ready," I confirmed after buckling up. He drives us out of the cul-de-sac.

"You like Tom Waits?" he asked after we had gone down the road a little way. _I mean, I know one song._ Before I can reply though, he turns up the radio. Robert lights a cigarette and cracks open the windows. It's a peaceful drive.

I thought about asking him where we were going, but then I remembered how fun it had been the last time we hung out. I never knew where we were going and it was great. Dislocated knee, not great; everything else? Yes.

Wherever we're going, it's outside of town as Robert takes us to the highway. I get comfy in my seat and look out the window. The night air smells nice.

I look over at Robert and note in my mind that he looks tired. There's something else in his expression that I can't tell what it is. I want to ask, but I barely know him. It might be too personal. Besides, he's not a small talk guy. Still… he looks burdened by something.

He noticed me staring and said, "Stop looking so nervous."

"I'm not nervous," I replied.

"Just hang on, we're almost there."

After a little while longer, Robert stopped the truck. He got out and I followed him. He goes to the back of the truck and puts the gate down. He hops up and spreads a blanket out. He sits on the gate and pats the spot next to him. I hop up beside him.

We're on a hill overlooking the city. There's a forest off to the side, but I'm more taken aback by the view in front of us. From here, the city looks so beautiful. It's a crisp evening, but beyond that, it's a perfect night.

"This is where I come to masturbate," said Robert, out of nowhere.

"Okay…?" I asked, unsure if he was serious or not.

"I'm kidding," he said. "What's wrong with you?" He changes the tone of the conversation. "This is my little spot where I come to think."

"It's nice," I approved.

"You can see the whole city from up here; really gives you some perspective." He then pulled a knife from his jacket and I couldn't suppress my alarm.

"Oh," I said shakily. I honestly didn't know what he was going to do next. What he did was take a small piece of wood from his pocket. He uses the knife to start carving the wood. I breathe a sigh of relief.

"Did you think I was gonna stab you just now?" he asked.

"What? No," I denied. _Maybe._

"Hate to break it to you, but I did, in fact, bring you out here to harvest your organs."

_Okay._ "Yeah, well, you think you may have caught me in your trap, but I knew. For years, I have been destroying my body with junk food, in preparation for this day. Come at me, friend, and reap what you will." I laid down on the truck bed and put my hand over my head dramatically, like you do.

He snorted. "Ha! Nothing gets past you, huh?" I sat back up and saw him reach into his pocket again. He pulled out another knife which he hands to me. "I'm gonna warn you, the last guy I had a knife fight with lost three fingers because he didn't know the eight basic rules of knife fighting. You're familiar, correct?"

"I honestly can't tell when you're kidding anymore."

"I'm so many levels of irony deep that I've forgotten what humor is." We both laugh at that. "Have you ever whittled before?" _Now THAT was left field._

"I've never been to the old west, no." That was the wrong thing to say.

"Carrie, I'll have you know that whittling is a time-honored tradition enjoyed by both young and old alike. That you're dismissing it before you've even tried it speaks volumes about your character." _Is he… is he actually offended?_ He went on, "However, because I've gotten to know you for some time and have come to think of us as friends, I'm willing to attribute it to ignorance instead of malice. What I'm trying to say is… go get that stick." He motioned to a good-looking stick on the ground. I went over, picked it up, and brought it back.

Robert instructed, "The most important thing to remember while whittling is to cut with the grain, not against it. If you cut against the grain, the wood's gonna splinter."

"Isn't the most important thing safety?" I asked.

"No," he punctuated that apart from the rest of what he said. "Getting hurt comes with the territory. Look at my damn hands." I looked at his hands and decided I liked them. They were calloused and covered with little scars, but I liked them. "You can't make a stick omelet without breaking a few hand eggs."

We carve for a minute or two before my hand slips and the knife slices into my thumb. _Well, now that's a cut._ "Um," I said. Robert doesn't notice me at first, too preoccupied with his own carving. I am straight bleeding all over my hand. "Uh… Robert, I'm bleeding to death."

Robert looked over and took out a bandana from his jacket. He wrapped it around my thumb. "Hold tight," he said as he hopped off the tailgate. I heard him rummaging in his truck. He came back to me with a well-stocked first aid kit.

He removed the bandana and carefully wiped all the blood off my hand. He put antiseptic in the cut and I flinched. "You always keep that with you or was it just for me?"

He snorted as he wrapped my finger in gauze. "Which would you rather hear?"

"I'd hoped I hadn't created such a clumsy impression, so I'd rather you tell me you always had the kit with you."

"Sure. Gotta have some way to bandage myself." He finished wrapping my finger and asked, "You okay?"

"Yeah, I'm good. Thank you."

He handed me the tube of antiseptic and said, "Keep that wound clean."

_Wow. I had no idea he could be so nice and gentle. Now I'm turned on again._ "I guess I'm a real whittler now," I said, trying to tame my emotions.

"That you are. Be careful, though. They're attracted to the smell of blood."

"Wait, what? What's attracted to the smell of blood?"

"Cryptids. Tons of 'em out here, you know."

"Cryptids? Like Mothman and stuff?"

"Mothman is bullshit, but yeah. This town's a hotbed for cryptozoological occurrences."

"You're joking." _I honestly don't know when he's being serious._

"Oh, how I wish I were. I'm a skeptic myself… or at least I thought I was. There are things in these woods that we can't possibly comprehend."

I thought about my time living in this city. I had seen a few stray and sometimes wild animals, but I didn't think it was too bad. I didn't know the whole town though. Who knew what was lurking around the next corner, waiting to be uncovered? It was scary, a little bit, but also sort of exciting.

"You ever hear of the Dover Ghost?" asked Robert, disrupting my thoughts.

"I don't think so…" I replied.

"Well, let me tell you a story. I was out in the woods here on a weekend camping trip with Betsy. You don't know Betsy, but she's a big pup. Pitbull. Real intimidating. I feel safe around her. First night goes without incident. I get some solitude, Betsy gets to pee wherever she wants. All good stuff.

"Second day, I get the idea into my head that I can hike deeper into the woods. Probably against my better judgement, but hey, we're just having a fun camping trip, right? So, me and Betsy start marching in the morning. It gets late and we set up camp, but it's different this night. Real quiet. I can't hear the birds, the crickets, squirrels, nothin'. Dead silent.

"Then it happens. I hear the most unholy growl I've ever heard in my life, right outside my tent. Me and Betsy, we go to investigate. We look around the clearing, nobody's there. But there's this feeling, not sure if I can quite describe it. I know someone—something—is watching us. Betsy, though, she's scared. Never seen her like that. And when she's scared, I know that I should be too. And then I see it. In the distance. A man, but… if something that didn't know what a man was supposed to look like made it. It just looked… wrong. Big. Arms too long for its body. Black eyes. It just stood there and stared at me. Then, it disappears. I hear one yelp from Betsy and I turn around to check on her, but she's gone. Into thin air. I didn't sleep at all in my tent that night. And I don't think I've slept right since."

I had been quiet while he was telling his story. By the time he finished, I felt chills and the hairs on my arms were standing on end. Even if this was just a story and didn't really happen, it was still spooky as all get out. I finally said, "Okay, you're full of shit."

"You think I'm lying?" He pulled out his wallet and showed me a picture of a cute pitbull. "Tell that to Betsy." I swallowed nervously. He went on, "They say that if you listen closely on quiet nights… nights just like tonight… you can hear the howl of the Dover Ghost."

I jump and feel my skin turn cold when we suddenly hear a howl echo through the woods. It didn't sound like a regular howl. It sounded like it belonged to a much bigger animal. I grabbed Robert's hand out of instinct.

"Okay, Robert, real funny," I said, not able to stop the shaking in my voice. I searched his expression for any sign that he may have been joking with me again. The look on his face and his returned grip on my hand tells me otherwise though. "Robert… you're messing with me, right?"

"I was messing with you, up until literally just now. I totally made that camping story up," he replied.

I looked to the tree line and squinted my eyes. They widened again when I saw a human-like shape dragging something. "Robert, please get us out of here. I think I see something in the woods and I'm kinda freakin' here."

Robert puts an arm around me and guides me into the truck. He quickly shuts the tailgate and hops into his side. He locks the doors, turns off the headlights, and slowly makes his way back onto the road. He doesn't turn the headlights on until we get there. Suddenly the distance between me and Robert seems too far. I need to hold something or be held. As it is, I was shaking, too scared to look back.

"Robert. What was that?" I asked tentatively.

"The Dover Ghost, I guess," Robert replied. He tried to play it off, but I could tell he was almost as spooked as I was. The one time something had to be real and I couldn't be more freaked out.

"Or maybe someone was illegally dumping garbage on a wildlife preserve?" I proposed. I desperately wanted it to be something tangible, not some ghost that couldn't be caught, beat, or arrested.

"Yeah, that's the story we'll tell ourselves."

As the truck rumbles down the road, the fear slowly subsides. I take a few deep breaths of the night air through the window. It's barely open a crack, but it's enough to calm me.

"Thanks for coming out. This was fun," said Robert. "I'm sorry I haven't been in touch. I've just… been in a way lately. I had to get out of the house… had to be around somebody."

"Are you… are you in some kind of trouble?" I asked gently.

Robert's quiet for a moment as he lights another cigarette. "No, I've just been doing a lot of thinking," he replied. He took a long drag and exhaled slowly. "As I get older, I feel more and more that I'm just… drowning in this sea of regret. I was so busy chasing after these things that I thought would make me happy that I didn't think about anyone else. All I cared about was myself. I didn't even think…"

He didn't continue his thought. As he stared down the road, I thought on what he said. He had said a lot to me, more than I remember him revealing, but… I still didn't have the whole picture. Then, I thought back on what he had said about his age. I had forgotten that he was ten years older than I was. He was old enough to have a kid my age naturally instead of adopting them.

Before I could go deeper into my thoughts, Robert spoke again. "Maybe I'm just built like this. Or maybe I do it to myself. Maybe it's my own choice that I'm as unhappy as I am."

What he said really resonated with me. These were thoughts that had come into my head. When Daniel died, I fell into a deep depression. It had been gradually getting lesser, but it still felt strong. I knew what that felt like, but with Robert, it felt different, like he was in deeper than I was. It was kinda scary.

I empathized with him. "It must've taken a lot for you to want to tell somebody this. You hide yourself from others whether through silence or dark humor. You don't have to. If no one else will be there for you, let me be there for you." I put a hand on his shoulder and gave a comforting squeeze.

"Do you… ever… wish you were a better parent?"

It seemed a little off topic, but that must have been close to what was bothering him. I gave my best answer. "All the time. There's no preparing you for having a child. There's things I regret or wish I had done better, but I think that's part of good parenting. A good parent always wants to do better for their kid, but we can't do everything. At the end of the day, all we can do is our best."

"It's funny. I look at you and your relationship with your son and it seems perfect."

"It isn't."

"At least you're there for him."

I stare down the road, watching everything go by. "I just hope I'm a better parent to my kid than my parents were to me."

"What did they do?"

"They didn't support my relationships, whether that was past boyfriends or friends in general. Nothing I ever did felt good enough. I don't think I ever heard either of them tell me they were proud of me. I don't know. It just felt very… loveless."

"Do you hate them?"

"No. I'm not a hatin' kinda gal. I felt bad for them though. They missed out on a lot of happy moments in my life with Andrew… and Daniel. They missed out on a lot of good times." It still didn't feel easy to say Daniel's name, but… maybe enough time had passed. It was getting better. "It broke my heart when I had to leave them to die in that house fire."

"What?" Robert looked to me as if he hadn't heard right.

I turned and smiled at him. "No, they got a nice cabin in Tennessee. We visit on the holidays."

We both laugh and Robert squeezes my shoulder. He's smiling genuinely and I smile back. I was glad to break the tension. Maybe dark humor was a good thing… sometimes. The rest of the ride was peaceful. We listened to the radio and the whir of the night life as we came back into the city.

Robert drops me off at home. As I'm about to get out, I realize I still have Robert's pocket knife in my jacket. I pull it out and offer it back to him. He shakes his head and says, "You hold onto that. Never know when you might need it."

I hop out of the truck. I give a small smile and say, "Good night, Robert. Have a safe drive home." I shut the passenger door and waved.

I saw Robert smirk before he pulled away. He then pulls into his driveway, which is one over from mine. I shake my head and smile. When Robert gets out, he waves. I wave back and we both head into our own houses.

I opened the door carefully, not wanting to wake Andrew. I jumped when I suddenly heard a voice. "Whoa, where'd you come from?" I whipped around and noticed Andrew sitting on the couch. He was on his laptop and had his headphones propped on his shoulders. "I thought you were home."

"Oh, uh… Robert woke me up to go cryptid hunting," I replied.

"You know the Mothman is bullshit, right?"

"Andrew, lang-" I sighed. "Whatever, it's been a long night. Why don't we both go to bed?"

"Sure, Mom." Andrew shut his laptop and we both headed to our rooms. My mind went back to the conversation I had with Robert.

"Hey, Andrew?" I asked.

"Yeah, Mom?" Andrew asked, leaning in his bedroom doorway.

"I love you."

Andrew smiles. "I love you too, Mom. Night." He goes into his room without another word. I smile. It was getting better. I know it was. I just hoped it would get better for Robert soon too.

* * *

**That's all for now. Please keep reading and reviewing, thanks :)**


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